Five Minutes
by petrichors
Summary: They told her she was imagining it, but Amelia knew better. And she knew her madman with a box was coming back to rescue her.


**A/N: The characters here are not mine; everything you recognise belongs to the writers and creators of Doctor Who.**

"Five minutes."

That's what he'd told her. And so she waited. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Half an hour. One hour. But still he hadn't returned. Amelia sat waiting and waiting for the blue box to appear in her garden, waiting for the strange, other-worldly man to step out and grin at her and take her away for the promised adventures. She'd wanted to escape for so long, and this man and his box was her chance to. She knew she was right. He'd _told_ her he would come back and fix the crack in the wall. He was going to fix the only thing that scared her.

And so she waited.

But he didn't come.

Occasionally she thought she heard the odd sounds that the box had made, but when she looked up into the sky, she saw nothing but the stars twinkling brightly.

After two hours she grew cold.

After three hours she grew tired.

But Amelia couldn't sleep. Not yet. Because the man with the blue box was going to come back for her.

And so she waited.

But he didn't come.

And so she fell asleep. On a broken log in the cold of her garden, Amelia Pond slept, barely stirring as her aunt carried her inside to her warm bed, her unconscious mind filled with images of a bright blue box and the man who lived inside.

In the morning, she woke, and immediately the events of last night came flooding back to her. Bleary eyed and yawning, Amelia walked over to her desk, pulling out a piece of paper and a blue crayon, and set to work drawing the blue box as she remembered it. After all, she didn't want to forget what it looked like when it appeared to take her away. Because he would come. She knew he would come. Maybe not five minutes as he told her, but he would come. He told her he would come and she believed him. She didn't know exactly _why _she believed him, but she did. There was something about him that made her believe him. She knew he would come.

And so she waited.

But he didn't come.

Days passed, and still Amelia waited for him. Her saviour. She wondered occasionally if it had all been a dream, but when she focused her mind on it, she knew it was real. Of course it was real. He became an obsession. She would look for signs of him everywhere she went, she had an entire scrapbook filled with pictures of him and his box, and she had taken to eating fish fingers and custard whenever she was home alone. She convinced herself that he was coming back for her, that maybe she had heard him wrong. Did he really say five minutes? Perhaps he said five days. Perhaps five months. Perhaps five years. However long he took, she never gave up hope that he would come for her.

And so she waited.

But he didn't come.

"You're being silly, Amelia." They would tell her. "You're imagining things." But she wasn't imagining things. "He doesn't exist." But he did. Her aunt introduced her to a boy who lived down the road, hoping they could become friends, and Amelia would forget about her imaginary friend. But she never forgot. She would make Rory dress up and take her on adventures. She made a blue box out of cardboard and she would tell Rory to fly her away in it. Rory didn't understand, but he did it anyway.

One cold February morning, Amelia's aunt called her inside, and sat her at the dining table. And that was the day everything changed. "Stop waiting." Her aunt told her. "He's not coming back." And so she was sent to a psychologist. Reluctantly she told the kind looking man of the tall man with the blue box but he didn't believe her. And so she bit him. Because she knew the truth. It didn't matter how many times she was told he was imaginary, a figment of her imagination, a dream. She knew he was real, and she knew he was coming back for her.

And so she waited.

But he didn't come.

Four psychologists. That's how many it took before Amelia started to lose hope. They all told her the same thing. "He isn't real." They told her she was looking for a replacement father, that she was looking for an escape, that she had an _imaginary friend._ And so she bit them all. And all four of them kicked her out, telling her aunt it was a phase she had to grow out of. And after three years, nine months and four days, Amelia stopped. Her aunt had dragged her home from school early, called in by the teacher who was tired of Amelia's stories. "It's time to stop waiting, Amelia." Her aunt said. "It's time to grow up."

And so she stopped waiting.

But still he never came.


End file.
